


Prompts and Drabbles

by CuriousThimble



Series: Prompts and Drabbles [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Battle of Denerim, F/M, Fluff, Funny, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22773841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/pseuds/CuriousThimble
Summary: A series of prompts that come in from tumblr
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: Prompts and Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637275
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Prompt #1- Zevran

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt came from allisondraste on Tumblr from "The Way You Said I Love You" Prompt list. This was prompt #16: Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble.

"No," Zevran croaked, too low to be heard. 

The daggers in his hands grew suddenly too heavy to hold and he let them fall to the stone roof with a clatter. Around him, the battle raged on, the darkspawn not yet realizing that their archdemon was dying and continuing to fight the men of Redcliffe. Alistair and Leliana stood across the rooftop, staring with wide, horrified eyes as the Warden struggled against the power blasting through her body.

"No," he whispered again as the light died and she fell to the stone.

Leliana was the first to move, a flash of red and leather screaming as she ran. Zevran was afraid to move, afraid to see if the ritual Morrigan worked had been successful. So he stood, frozen in place, as Leliana and Alistair knelt over her body. Swallowing hard, Zevran closed his eyes to block it out. He knew death intimately; it would rob her of the rough edges of her features, softening them the way sleep did on the few occasions she was not plagued with nightmares.

There would be blood staining her lovely braids. 

"Zevran."

Alistair's voice was a heavy stone resting on Zevran's chest, making it hard to breathe as he forced himself to open his eyes. Putting a hand on his shoulder, the bastard prince- no, he would be a king, now that it was done- pulled him into a rough embrace before pushing him toward where she lay. "Go," he rasped. "I've got to find Morrigan and kill her."

Zevran's gaze fell on Leliana, her hands covering her face as she sobbed, and shook his head. "No," he repeated.

Alistair nudged him again, gently, and when Zevran still did not move, he took him by the elbow and walked him toward the beautiful woman lying in a puddle of blood. 

She lay still, her face tinged with gray and smeared with both the blood of men and darkspawn- or was it her own blood? Zevran's legs gave out and he collapsed beside her, his breath leaving him in a desperate wheeze. He lifted her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her soft hair.

"I love you," he whispered brokenly. The pain of loss had not yet arrived, the shock of it too much for him to process. "I love you," he repeated, over and over until the most important words he had ever uttered became senseless babble. It hurt to say it, to beg her to stay, but he was desperate and ready to plead with the Maker or Andraste or the archdemons deep under the earth. "I love you I love you I love you. Don't go. Don't leave. I love you."

"Zev," Leliana whispered, her face full of awe. "Look at her, she's breathing."


	2. Prompt #2- Hera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera and Zevran receive a letter from the King of Ferelden.

Zevran approaches slowly, not quite sure how Hera would react to the letter that arrived this morning. Staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought, she doesn’t hear him approach. “Ah… _amora_ ,” he says slowly, catching her attention. “There’s been a letter.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow when he hands it to her, the thick vellum covered in a half-familiar scrawl. “It’s from Alistair,” she whispers, handing it back to him. The sudden tears in her eyes make him regret even bringing it to her. “I don’t want to read it.”

Zevran nods, understanding. “He invites us to a party,” he explains, scanning the letter again. “It’s to celebrate the victory at Denerim- _your_ victory, _amora.”_

Hera tries to look uninterested, but Zevran can see through it. He has spent every day of the last two years learning how to read her, and he’s starting to think he’s got a knack for it. _Better at reading her than picking locks,_ he thinks ruefully. But under the mask of disinterest is a wound that goes far deeper than his friendship can mend.

“I wish him the joy of it,” she mutters, twitching the curtain closed and turning away from the view. It’s easier for him to ignore her dashing away tears if the room is in shadows.

Zevran chuckles, trying to lighten the sudden darkness that’s overtaken her lovely features. “Feel free to kill me for saying this,” he says, “but I think you should go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is connected to my fic The Wrong Warden! If you like this check that out as well.


	3. Prompt #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran takes Kalli to see a part of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old prompt I found on my computer, probably from Elveny.

"Zevran, where are we?"

"Keep your voice down, there may be someone here."

Kallian follows quietly, confused as to why he brought her to a decripit old building on the edge of the bay. The air carries a sour, stale scent, as if for decades this place was the home of a tannery or abattoir. The entire neighborhood saw better days a century ago, the roofs sagging and leaning over the street in a horrifying illusion of falling. Zevran leans on a door swollen into the frame, forcing it open with a grunt. He waves her on, his expression more serious than she's ever seen, and they carefully climb a rickety stairwell.

When they reach the top, he points to a door, and Kallian walks over to it, touching it before glancing back at him. "Is this the tannery you lived above?" she asks softly.

"Yes, amora," he says hoarsely. "This old, abandoned place is where I-"

She throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace tight enough to make him gasp. "Not anymore," she whispers.

"I bought it," he tells her.

"Shall we burn it down, then?"


	4. Prompt #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran plans a romantic picnic that doesn't exactly go the way he anticipates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Elveny  
> Prompt: Quit moving, you have something in your hair.

Zevran sighed deeply and closed his eyes against the dappled sunlight streaming through the leaves.  _ Who needs a Golden City when I am in a warm, glorious city with a warm, glorious woman? Well, the woman will be here soon enough. _

“ _ Tesoro?” _ As if on cue, Tabris’ lyrical voice chimed among the birdsong of Minrathous’ great gardens. “Where are you?”

“Here,  _ mi amor, _ ” he whispered, reaching behind his head to rustle a flowering bush and making petals scatter across his open shirt. Grinning, he plucks a fragrant bloom and sticks it behind his ear.

“In the-? Oh, here you are!” Her blonde head came into view, making his heart drop into his stomach at her loveliness. “What do you think?” she asked, the rest of her coming into view as she slips into the secluded little spot he’d found for their picnic.

Zevran sat up and took her chin in hand, turning her head this way and that. Her golden hair had been swept up into an elaborate style that wove her braids among curls and bits of jewels and gold. It was a feat of engineering, really. “It is lovely,  _ amora _ ,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from her chin to her throat, drawing her closer for a kiss.

Tabris’ arms wrapped around him, blessedly bare in her loose Tevene gown, hands skittering up his back to dive into his hair before jerking away with a cry of surprise. 

“Kallian?” he asked, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Something touched me!” she shrieked.

Zevran cocked an eyebrow at her and looked pointedly at the hand he’d just slid up her skirt. “That was me,  _ amora. _ ”

She shuddered and jumped to her feet, moving behind him. “No! Something touched my hand!” she explained, pushing his head down so she could examine his hair. 

“Kallian, this is not the game I had imagined.”

“Zevran, quit moving! You’ve got something in your hair.”

“Well what is it?” Suddenly overcome with the intense need to scratch, he started shaking his hair out. “A bug? A worm? Did I lie back in something foul?” he asks, ripping his shirt off and dancing around. “Kalli, where is it?”

“Oh Zevran…”

Tabris’ laughter rings through the garden. Opening her hand, she reveals a tiny lizard. “It’s cute,” she giggles, stroking it’s purple-blue back. “And you scream like a child.”


	5. Make a Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Hera spend a night stargazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Elveny

“Falling asleep on the job, are you?” Alistair laughs as he tops the hill and finds Hera lying on her back, one arm behind her head and staring at the sky. “Sten is going to be disappointed you aren’t keeping your watch.”

“Morrigan took over for me twenty-three minutes ago,” she informs him primly, shooting him a glance before going back to her study of the night sky. 

“I don’t even want to know how you know that, but I get the feeling you’re right,” he says, flopping down beside her and pillowing his head on his hands. 

“Being half-vampire gives you an acute sense of time,” she explains.

“Nice night for stargazing.”

If he wasn’t already looking at  _ her _ and not the stars, he still would have been able to hear the smile in her voice. “How can you tell?” she asks, her eyes crinkling. “You aren’t looking at the stars.”

Rising up on an elbow, Alistair tilts her chin so that she’s looking at him. “Yes, I am,” he says softly.

The kiss is soft and warm, like the spring breeze rustling the tall grass around them.  _ If I could freeze time, this is the moment I would choose, _ he thinks when they part.  _ No Blight. No archdemon. No crown waiting. Just us, just this. _

“What are the constellations like in Ravenloft?” he asks, settling on his back again and actually looking up this time. 

“Not like this,” Hera says wryly. “Our constellations are made up of a trio of skulls, a hanging man, a bat, a rose. That sort of thing.”

“That sounds...unsettling,” he says, feigning a nervous chuckle. “What do you think of Thedas’?”

“Well, if I cover one eye and squint, I think I can see a dog,” she teases, putting actions to words.

“Very Ferelden of you,” he laughs. “There  _ is _ a dog, actually, but it’s over there.” He points to the north. “Andraste’s Mabari.”

“Even Andraste has a dog to you Fereldens.”

“Lady had good taste.”

“Look! A shooting star!” Hera sits up, pointing. “Do you make wishes on them here? Make one! Quick!”

But he misses the star completely, Alistair’s eyes are only for Hera with her sparkling eyes and the bits of grass stuck in her hair. 

_ I wish for a lifetime of this. _


End file.
